Self Love

"All you think about is yourself."

"That's not true!"

Stephen and his girlfriend, Lisa, were celebrating their third anniversary. At the moment they were feeling less romantic than expected.

"It seems, sometimes," Lisa said, "like you don't listen to me. You can be very self-absorbed. Like just now," she continued, ignoring Stephen's expression of indignation. "Just now, I was trying to tell you something that happened today at work, and I could see you zoning out as I was talking," she exclaimed irritatedly. "I know it's just a jewelry store. I get that it's probably not summer movie blockbuster material...but you know, I'm your girlfriend, and this is my life I'm talking about. Do you even care at all?"

Stephen felt his cheeks grow red. "Of course I care. I do listen to you."

But she had a point, he had to admit. The truth was came down to how his brain worked: Stephen had a tendency to tune out other people. He would often space out and become deep in thought. His mind wandered to the hot waitress who had served them their meal. Brunette. Tall. Beautiful figure. There was something flirtatious in the way she had looked at him, something about the way she bit her lower lip before walking away. Not at all like the way Lisa was looking at him now, with frustration in her eyes.

He started. Shit. Right, Lisa...what was she saying?

"...rely on your support. I could really use your opinion on this. Do you think I did the right thing today?"

Stephen suddenly realized that was being asked to weigh in on something. He felt a twinge of panic.

"Ah." He took a sip of wine. "No."

Lisa raised an eyebrow. "No. You don't think I did the right thing."

Stephen felt more was being expected from him. He cleared his throat. "I think that you...it was probably the wrong thing. But it's all subjective, of course." It seemed like the air was draining out of the room, but he went on bravely, "I mean, who's to say? Sometimes it's hard to know what the right thing to do is. And I think you handled the situation very...very well, if it's...all things considered," he stammered.

For a moment Lisa was perfectly still. Then she said, "You have no idea what we're talking about, do you?"

He hesitated. "Jewelry?"

. . . . . . . .

Stephen strode into his room and angrily shut the door. This night had been a disaster. He sat down on his bed and tried to slow his breathing. Guilt and shame competed in his mind with anger and irritation. Absentmindedly, he inspected himself in the large mirror hung on the wall. Then, as he sometimes did when he was alone, he spoke aloud to his reflection.

"I can't help it." His reflection looked at him sympathetically. "Sometimes I have trouble focusing."

At the moment, however, he felt very focused and attentive. Looking at the reflection of himself, his eyes traveled down from his face to his own biceps, which bulged attractively beneath his tight-fit polo shirt. He felt a surge of satisfaction. He took care of himself and worked out daily. Overall, he was a good-looking guy in great physical shape.

He took off his shirt and looked at his naked chest. The atmosphere in the room had changed slightly but decisively: what had been a surplus of nervous, angry energy had somehow been converted to a growing sense of arousal. He felt himself through his jeans, slowly, and eyed the handsome man in the mirror.

He suddenly felt that Lisa didn't appreciate him enough. He was a loyal boyfriend with good intentions. He was kind to her. He knew that he wasn't perfect, but no one was. That was okay.

Stephen began to feel more optimistic. This was a difficult night but their relationship would certainly survive. They would apologize. And then they would fuck, like they always did after an argument. They had a great sex life. He was attracted to her, and she was attracted to him.

He was attracted to him.

Stephen blinked. Somehow, without having been conscious of doing so, he had removed his jeans and underwear and begun to stroke himself. He was leaning forward toward the glass. While he masturbated, he stared at his reflection and admired his athletic body. He was squatting slightly, with a wide stance. He watched as his cock swelled, and felt it in his hand as he stroked along its length. In the reflection it seemed to grow bigger than usual-huge even, larger than life.

As he gaped at the size of his cock, he felt an aggressive, almost animalistic urge. He was viscerally drawn to the man in front of him. He wanted to fuck him; he wanted to be fucked by him. He wanted to take that cock in his mouth.

He began to sweat. His stroking became fast and energetic but he felt no closer to relief. On the contrary, he was gradually overtaken by a mounting, intensifying desire which occluded all his other thoughts. He looked back up to his face and saw an expression contorted by arousal.

Stephen had drawn closer; he was a few inches from the glass now. His eyes met the eyes of the man in the mirror. Even in the midst of this erotic experience Stephen became aware that something was off about the reflection. It was him, of course, and yet his reflection didn't quite match his motions or behavior. He looked down and saw that his own feet seemed slightly farther apart than the man's feet. As they jacked off it seemed their strokes didn't quite align, either. With a jolt, Stephen realized that they were masturbating with different hands.

Stephen looked back up at the man's face and in the next moment their lips were locked together in a passionate, open-mouthed kiss. The man reached out of the looking glass and held the back of Stephen's head as their tongues intertwined. The two identical men embraced tightly and ran their hands along each other's backsides, kneading, squeezing each other's asses as they fell back onto the matress.

Their mouths and hands were everywhere as the doppelgängers writhed on the bed. Within the minute they had moved into a sixty-nine position and begun sucking each others' cocks with eagerness and urgency. The room was filled with the slurping sounds of their blowjobs and the smells of sweat and sex.

Stephen had stopped thinking about anything except the swollen member in his mouth and the dizzying sensation of his own cock enveloped by the mouth of the other man. His feeling toward the dick was nearly worshipful; the only thing he wanted in the universe was to caress it, lick and encircle it with his tongue, draw it more fully into his mouth, and bring it to an orgasm. His twin brought an identical enthusiasm to bear on Stephen's cock.

As they sucked each other their blowjobs took on an almost desperate energy. Both men were moaning desirously. It occurred to Stephen that his lust was actually overpowering his sense of control; even if the room collapsed around them, he would not and even could not stop sucking this hard cock. He wanted and needed it to cum, and he himself was close to release as well.

Within moments they came, at exactly the same time-the cock in Stephen's mouth exploded with cum and he sucked and swallowed it lustily; it tasted familiar, like himself. As Stephen came he felt that his cock was completely engulfed by his twin's hot, wet mouth. Their bodies shuddered.

The men remained connected in that position for another minute as they licked each other clean. Then, as Stephen began to calm down, he pulled his head away and quietly asked, "Who are you?"

His twin did not answer, but kept licking and sucking on Stephen's softening cock. Stephen closed his eyes. "Am I dreaming? What's happening to me?" The man did not say anything and Stephen pulled away careully, turning himself around to look his reflection in the eye.

He asked again, "Who are you?"

They looked at each other for a moment on the bed. The strange twin wore a curious half-smile as he silently looked at Stephen. They breathed deeply. Then they were kissing again, more slowly and gently than before. The twin began kissing Stephen's neck as they held each other.

Feeling the man's lips on his neck, Stephen felt himself beginning to lose control once more. He struggled to fight it as the twin crept on top, pinning him down to the bed as he kissed down his chest. Waves of lust were coarsing through his body, but Stephen made a heroic effort to concentrate. He forced himself to speak. "This doesn't feel like a dream. This feels like..." He hesitated. "This feels like the most real thing that's ever happened to me." The man kept kissing down Stephen's abdomen, leaving a trail of saliva down his body. Stephen's lust grew. "I don't know what this is, but..."-the man reached his cock, which had hardened again-"...it's just, I think I need to say..."

But what Stephen was going to say he will never remember, because once the man began licking his balls and stroking his cock Stephen was no longer able to form a sentence. He closed his eyes. Inchoate moans of pleasure escaped his mouth involuntarily. He gripped the bedsheets as the man pleasured him, over and over.

. . . . . . . .

"You're right."

Lisa looked at him quizzically over her coffee. This morning Stephen looked somehow different. His posture had improved. Stephen was holding himself with confidence.

He looked her in the eye. "It's true that I am not always a good listener. And it's definitely true that I get caught up in my thoughts." His expression changed from contrition to seriousness-and something else, she thought, an intensity she had never seen before.

"I know that I haven't been making myself available to you. In the future," Stephen said, "when my mind begins to wander, I will let you know, and make an effort to be in the moment with you. In return, I ask that you be patient with me and understand that I'm not perfect, that I'm trying to be a better boyfriend than I have been."

Lisa was genuinely moved. He had never spoken like this before. She took a sip of her coffee. "Thank you, Stephen. That means a lot."

Stephen nodded. "Are we okay?"

Lisa smiled. She leaned in close to him over the table. She intended to give him a small, polite kiss but as their lips touched it became deeper, more sensuous.

After a few moments she pulled away. Breathing deeply, she spoke softly but urgently. "Your place or mine?"